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Route 84 would not lend me
the light of a star last night
Radio blazing at 75 mph
nonsense noise to chew gum by
Crackling political commentary
Static of distance and thick clouds
Invisible mountains blocking
Memories seeping through the cracks
coating the music in a film
I rub my eyes
watch myself punch alert buttons
But it’s the angels’ jukebox tonight

Roll down the window
Watch the heat escape

Summer again

I am building a castle of ancient stones
pulverized by relentless tides
Dragged across maps by mastodons
and mammoth glaciers
The scouring hiss
the ocean sighs
Time has lulled these smoothly
rolling them in the softest hands of sand
and gels of life’s comings and goings
tenderly tumbling
in the millionth moonrise—
Time deposits them here
wet and glistening

For the girl with the plaid two-piece to gather
Shoulders sun-burnt barely say
one week only,
one week of the fifty two
“It’s the time of the season…”
and daddies on the beach are watching….

She has chosen yet another stone
And the castle continues—
in oblivion to all but her legend…

     The queen will be safe here
     from the rabble
     The disgraced Tristan will surely seek her
     Among these lofty cliffs
     Between the raging circuit of the tide
     Here winds forbid the vengeful mob
     Here lovers learn
     the debt of love’s bad timing
     “Drink ye all of it!”
     --the potion that assigns our sorrow….
     She will not sleep—
     while I chew this gum--  GUM?

Roll down the window!

Angels escape with the heat
Waking me with the brush of their wings

As that eighteen-wheeler hugs my flank
And leans on the horn
Lights flashing
Rude rumbling under right tires
Tantrum of snow
In the draft of mass and velocity

…and the angels?
They’ve chosen another good one!
They must’ve liked the 80’s
Their wings slapping the windshield madly  
Their hands steady the wheel
As a fourteen-year old, I picked up a book to read at the beach about the legend of the lovers, Tristan and Iseult.  I was so captivated by their story that it ruled my imagination that summer.  

Anyway, I still think of it when I think of the ocean-- as I did on this cold dark occasion when I should have pulled off somewhere for a coffee, but I was trying to beat the snow storm home.
Route 84, also known as Dead Bambi Highway, has a desolate, treacherous section going over the mountains between NY and Pennsylvania.  Didn't have much option for music at the time, so I leaned heavily on the radio pushing the search button to find anything bearable-- not too much static.
Song reference in this: "Time of the Season" by the Zombies-- all time favorite beach song that happened to be on the radio that night.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RBxK3CcOQD8
I have always been who I am.
However, there have been phases of precious time, long lost, where I was
filling-in the roles that selfish people had me play.

Being one that never wanted to disappoint, they mistook my kindness for weakness - but I always new
that I would give-up show biz
one day!

It wasn't all that long ago
that I decided to make my final courtesy, and take a bow
for the very last time.

It was on that day
that I stopped insulting my soul -
it was on that particular day
that I apoligised to myself,
and I became 'all mine!'

I was never one to disappoint,
but I really owed it to myself.

I gave all glory to my God,
and to my soul...
I did it for the warrior
hiding within - my true-self!

Finally,
I came to the conclusion
that no one will
love me,
know me,
or care for my soul's needs
the way that I can.

I finally came to the conclusion
that I was just as selfish
as everyone else - because I had
cared more for others
than i had for myself.
So, I devised this plan:

I will be who I was born to be!
Sincere, kind, compassionate, empathetic, honest, forgiving,
and generous...
but smarter, and wiser,
than the average man
or woman!

By Lady R.F ©2016
A little honest piece of me
Feeling like you don’t get enough respect,
Thoughts of negativity creep up in the mind.

When you are offended by the acts of others,
Harmful pride eats up your cognitions.

Anger over resentment causes hatred,
Leading to the paths of hostilities.

Don’t let people’s opinions run your life,
Remember that your viewpoints are top priority.

If you honor yourself through loving you,
The route to happiness is waiting ahead.
She leaves every day
But returns every night
To illuminate the dark
With her ghostly spotlight.
My friends abroad think I'm peculiarly English
My English friends think I'm peculiarly northern
My northern friends just think I'm peculiar
But at least I've got friends

                                                     By Phil Roberts
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